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waitingmanIt was like Wedding Crashers in real life...
Last night, for the most tenuous reason, I found myself in Fairfield ~ a Sydney western suburb with a predominantly Middle-Eastern population. In the company of SarinG & various workmates of hers, we entered one of those gloriously gaudy reception centres ~ the kind where too much satin is never enough ~ for the wedding reception of another of SG's colleagues, a Muslim man & his new bride. With both families being of Lebanese Islamic descent, needless to say the bar was closed at the Centre. We arrived before most of the guests & were shown to our table at the back of the room, near the bathrooms (I'm sure that was a gesture on someone's behalf to... well, not me, so I wasn't worried), where an array of dips, breads & other finger food was ranged across the table. One of our number had braces put on his teeth a few days ago, so lamented that he wouldn't be able to eat most of what was in front of us, for which he was ribbed by a couple of his workmates... all night.
We were soon joined by the groom's older brother, who wanted to know who we were, how we knew his brother (I didn't & still don't!!) & when we were going to talk loudly enough to make up for the fact that the groom's side of the centre was considerably less populated than the bride's. As the evening wore on, he became stranger with every visit to our table, culminating in his suggestions for Buck's Night pranks - which seemed to involve a lot of farm livestock & duct tape.
On the way to our table, we'd passed the musicians stage & I enviously noted a large drum sitting off to one side. Little did I know that, within an hour, I would never want to hear the damned thing ever again. For, contrary to most 'Western' weddings, the dancing was done before dinner ~ for an hour. An hour of what I would imagine to be the Arabic version of The Wedding Singer, a 2 1/2 piece percussion section & a keyboard player who soloed using any 3 consecutive notes at apparent random. 2 songs, 1 hour... do the math. I like Middle Eastern music, but I know enough to know this wasn't good stuff...
Though even that marathon session wasn't enough for the 1/2 in the percussion section ~ a kid who'd been banging away merrily, yet inaudibly, on whichever drums the men weren't hitting ~ as dinner was being served & eaten, he sat on the stage merrily & now audibly banging away on all the drums the men weren't using. Including the BIG one, which had been thumped relentlessly during the dancing numbers.
After dinner our number surreptitiously halved, as 2 or 3 of the work colleagues disappeared just before the chief bridesmaid gave her speech & then launched into song, during the 12th minute of which the rest of us made a beeline for the street, our cars & the freeway.
Don't get me wrong, I found the night curiously entertaining & might have stayed longer... if they'd turfed out the band.
More soon on the trials, tribulations & injuries from the last 4 days. I'm going to breakfast & band practice. Hopefully in that order.
Last night, for the most tenuous reason, I found myself in Fairfield ~ a Sydney western suburb with a predominantly Middle-Eastern population. In the company of SarinG & various workmates of hers, we entered one of those gloriously gaudy reception centres ~ the kind where too much satin is never enough ~ for the wedding reception of another of SG's colleagues, a Muslim man & his new bride. With both families being of Lebanese Islamic descent, needless to say the bar was closed at the Centre. We arrived before most of the guests & were shown to our table at the back of the room, near the bathrooms (I'm sure that was a gesture on someone's behalf to... well, not me, so I wasn't worried), where an array of dips, breads & other finger food was ranged across the table. One of our number had braces put on his teeth a few days ago, so lamented that he wouldn't be able to eat most of what was in front of us, for which he was ribbed by a couple of his workmates... all night.
We were soon joined by the groom's older brother, who wanted to know who we were, how we knew his brother (I didn't & still don't!!) & when we were going to talk loudly enough to make up for the fact that the groom's side of the centre was considerably less populated than the bride's. As the evening wore on, he became stranger with every visit to our table, culminating in his suggestions for Buck's Night pranks - which seemed to involve a lot of farm livestock & duct tape.
On the way to our table, we'd passed the musicians stage & I enviously noted a large drum sitting off to one side. Little did I know that, within an hour, I would never want to hear the damned thing ever again. For, contrary to most 'Western' weddings, the dancing was done before dinner ~ for an hour. An hour of what I would imagine to be the Arabic version of The Wedding Singer, a 2 1/2 piece percussion section & a keyboard player who soloed using any 3 consecutive notes at apparent random. 2 songs, 1 hour... do the math. I like Middle Eastern music, but I know enough to know this wasn't good stuff...
Though even that marathon session wasn't enough for the 1/2 in the percussion section ~ a kid who'd been banging away merrily, yet inaudibly, on whichever drums the men weren't hitting ~ as dinner was being served & eaten, he sat on the stage merrily & now audibly banging away on all the drums the men weren't using. Including the BIG one, which had been thumped relentlessly during the dancing numbers.
After dinner our number surreptitiously halved, as 2 or 3 of the work colleagues disappeared just before the chief bridesmaid gave her speech & then launched into song, during the 12th minute of which the rest of us made a beeline for the street, our cars & the freeway.
Don't get me wrong, I found the night curiously entertaining & might have stayed longer... if they'd turfed out the band.
More soon on the trials, tribulations & injuries from the last 4 days. I'm going to breakfast & band practice. Hopefully in that order.
